Blue's Clues: The Lost Episode
by static shakedown
Summary: A deranged version of Blue's Clues. Steve is obsessed with opening letters, Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper are immigrants, and preschoolers love the handy dandy notebook. XD


**The Lost Episode**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Blue's Clues.**

--

The magical, yellow book of wonder opened up to show a little yellow house with a red roof. The birds outside the house were chirping, the sun was shining, and the purple and pink mailbox perched on the front lawn was happily smiling to noone in particular. And this is where our thirty minute episode begins . . .

The door opened to show Steve wearing his normal attire: a green stripped shirt tucked into freshly-ironed khaki pants with a black belt to hold it all together. "Oh, hi there! Come on in, you're just in time to play Blue's Clues!" he said.

"Woof, woof," replied Blue as she crawled up next to Steve.

"Hey there, Blue. Look, we've got company! So, what do you want to do today?"

"Woof."

"What Blue? There's a boy stuck in the well?"

"WOOF."

"Ohhh, you want to play Blue's Clues?"

"Woof! Woof!" Blue nodded her head up and down excitedly.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?"

" . . . " Blue gave him an incredulous look and then hopped around in a circle before speeding off to plant her hints around the house.

"Anyway," said Steve, "before we can play Blue's Clues we'll need our . . . "

"HANDY-DANDY NOTEBOOK!" screamed a big group of preschoolers from behind-the-scenes.

"Correct!" he yelled. He pretended to jog to Side Table Drawer and knelt down next to it. "Hi there, Side Table Drawer, we're going to play Blue's Clues and to do that we'll need ou—"

"HANDY-DANDY NOTEBOOK!" screamed the little kids.

" . . . Yeah, _that_," replied Steve mirthlessly, a bit peeved at being interrupted by a bunch of nose-picking preschoolers.

"Wow, Blue's Clues! I love Blue's Clues! I wish I could play . . . " it said with a sparkling, far-off look in its eyes.

"Yeah, too bad I bolted you to the floor, huh, Side Table?" Steve said while forcefully opening the top drawer and pulling out the notebook he needed. He then sped off to the kitchen, and when I say "sped off" I mean he pretend-jogged at a fast tempo to the kitchen.

**KITCHEN**

"Hmm, I wonder when the first clue will appear," Steve thought to himself out loud.

"Monsieur Steve, over here!" yelled Mrs. Pepper. Steve pretend-jogged to the kitchen counter to find Mr. Salt, Mrs. Pepper, and Baby Paprika. The baby was blowing snot bubbles out of her nose and giggling to herself while Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper were chopping up vegetables.

"STEVE, A CLUE, A CLUE!" screamed the preschoolers in over enthusiasm.

"What? You like my tattoo?"

"NO, A CLUE A CLUE!"

"Oh a clue! Why didn't you say so?" Steve looked around the room. "Where is the clue? Can you help me find it?"

"ON THE KNIFE!" yelled all the little kids. Steve looked at the kitchen counter where Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper were cooking. The knife Mrs. Pepper was holding had a blue paw print on it.

"Oh, le clue!" Mr. Salt exclaimed.

"You're right. Now it's time for me to—"

"THE HANDY DANDY NOTEBOOK!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Steve mumbled while pulling out the notebook.

"Woah. Le sparkly," Mr. Salt commented on the ethereal glow the notebook had.

"Whatever." Steve grabbed the green crayon resting inside the spiral of the notebook and flipped it to the first page.

"To draw a knife, we first make a straight line. Then, we make a curved line and finally draw a rectangle at the bottom. There! A knife."

"Oh Steve, your drawing skills are très magnifique!" swooned Mrs. Pepper, gazing at Steve like a love-sick puppy.

Mr. Salt abruptly coughed in order to interrupt the conversation. "_Ahem_. I'm le standing right here." He again cleared his throat and angrily mumbled curses under his breath. Truth be told, he was starting to be very suspicious of Mrs. Pepper lately. His suspicions began after Mrs. Pepper had a baby that just happened to look nothing like him—but, alas, how the offspring of a pepper and salt shaker can result in paprika is another story all together . . .

"Oh. Heh, sorry honey. Let's get back to chopping, shall we?" Mrs. Pepper tore her gaze away from Steve and back to the chopping board.

"Steve, would you like to help us separate the fruits from the vegetables?"

"Oh. Gee, I would love to but—ugh—that's kind of a peasant job isn't it? I mean, I don't want to have to call immigration on you gu—"

**(BLEEP)**

There was suddenly a black screen and then various commercials for anti-wrinkle creams and cars were played.

**(BLEEP)**

"Ow . . . ugh, welcome back to Blue's Clues." Steve rubbed the frying pan-shaped bruise on his forehead and winced in pain. He was in the main part of the house again. "Since we're done in the kitchen how about we go . . . this way." He pointed to the opposite direction and started his slow jog through the other side of the house.

"Mail time. Mail time. MAIL TIME," rung throughout the house. Steve paused in his trek through the house and an excited expression was plastered on his face. He quickly trotted back to the main part of the house and stood in front of the thinking chair.

"Oh. Here's the mail,

it never fails.

It makes me want to wag my tail.

When it comes I want to wail:

MAIL!"

After that embarrassing display of dance moves and belting out the ridiculous song, Steve sat in his chair anxiously looking out the window to his left for Mailbox to pop through and deliver him a letter.

"Hi. How's it going, Steve?" asked mailbox after he stretched his head all the way inside the window from outside.

"Enough small talk. You. Give me mail. Now." Steve began shaking with anticipation when Mailbox gave him a disgruntled look before opening up to show the letter.

His arm shot in to grab his beloved letter and pulled out the oversized orange mail. "My precious . . . " murmured Steve, drool forming on the corners of his mouth while his eyes bored holes into the letter.

Why was Steve acting like a drug addict who just got some Crack, you ask? Well, Steve's favorite part of the whole show, the reason he took the job in the first place, is because he has a secret adoration for opening letters. Opening letters is his one joy in life. Why? Well, how the hell should I know?

"I just got a letter!

I just got a letter!

I just got a letter!

I wonder who it's from?"

Steve was going to quickly open the letter but paused when he heard the annoying preschoolers again.

"A CLUE, A CLUE!" They screamed.

"You think this glorious letter came from Peru?" he asked, not really paying attention to the children because all of his attention was on the letter in his hands.

"NO! A CLUE!"

"Oh a clue. Why didn't you say so? Wait, WHAT?" Steve screamed and then frantically looked around his letter to find a large blue paw print on the back. And, since this was a clue, it meant that Steve wouldn't be allowed to open the letter until after the mystery was solved.

Steve stared in disbelief at the paw print for three minutes and then looked up and narrowed his eyes at the ceiling. Almost as if giving someone up above him a very dirty look, all the while mumbling profanities under his breath.

"HANDY DANDY NOTEBOOK TIME!" the preschoolers yelled once again.

Steve dropped the letter to the floor as if he had been scolded by it and then, with a look of pure anguish, pulled out the notebook.

"T-to draw a, to draw a . . . letter . . . we draw a rectangle a-and then we draw a triangle on the top inside the rectangle . . ." Steve's voice quivered with emotion as he fruitlessly tried to hold back his tears.

_Stay strong. Only need one more clue and then I can open my precious . . ._

"Cool drawing," commented Mailbox who was still on the window ledge. Steve turned towards him again and gave him a murderous glare. In one swift motion that lasted two seconds he grabbed Mailbox and threw him out the window.

"Well then, let's get this over with shall we?" Steve said while standing up from his chair.

All the children gasped; some started crying.

"Oh, I mean—let's go find Blue's last clue! Yay. Woo for Blue's Clues, it's the number one show on Nick Jr.!" he said in mock happiness.

All the children giggled and clapped their hands together in joy.

Steve continued to jog in the direction he had been going before mail time. He jogged past portraits hung up on the walls and the bathroom where Slippery Soap was cleaning the sink. Finally, he reached the end of the hallway where his room was and went inside.

"Hi, Steve! Can you come here? I want to show you something!" said Tickety Tock while bouncing up and down on a table. Steve had nothing better to do so he came up to meet her.

"Well, do you notice anything different, Steve?" asked Tickety.

"Like what?" he said in a monotone voice.

She pouted while continuing to bounce up and down. "Don't you notice something different in my appearance?"

Steve cast her a lazy sweeping glance and shook his head no.

"Well, how about you? Do you notice anything different in my appearance?" she said while facing the preschoolers.

"YOU GOT GLASSES!" they all screamed in amazement. Sure enough, Tickety dawned new glasses on her circular head.

"I knew that . . . " Steve muttered, feeling stupid for having four-year-olds out smart him.

Tickety then continued to bounce up and down but then decided to spin around in circles instead.

"OH, A CLUE, A CLUE!"

Steve snapped to attention at the mention of the final obstacle ("clue") between him and his letter opening. He frenzied around looking for it. "Where? WHERE?" he wailed.

"ON THE GLASSES!" the preschoolers were all jumping up and down with excitement.

Steve grabbed Tickety to keep her from spinning around in circles and held her up eye level with him so he could inspect her bifocals. A very small blue paw print was on the side of the right lense.

"HANDY DANDY NOTEBOOK TIME!"

He threw Tickety down and quickly pulled open the notebook. "Yeah, you draw some lines, okay? There, glasses!" Steve did a quick happy-day dance before pretend-jogging at a rapid rate to the thinking chair. Once there, Blue was waiting for him on the floor next to the chair. He sat down.

"Okay" he pulled out the notebook and flipped through the pages, "We've got a knife." It magically appeared above his head. "A . . . a-l-l-letter." It also appeared above his head and his hand that was holding the notebook quivered. "And glasses." All three items were floating above his head.

"Um . . . what could Blue possibly want to do?" Steve's mind was working overtime trying to quickly solve the puzzle to get to the grand prize. (The opening of the letter, of course.)

"Let's see . . . you, Blue, want to . . ." a lightbulb suddenly went over his head. "Of course! You want to get a knife to stab the eyeballs out of the mailman to steal all the letters in the world. And, since our mailman wears glasses, you would have to take his glasses before stabbing him, right?" Steve felt pride swell in his chest and looked at his dog lovingly because she came up with such a brilliant idea to be able to open letters.

Why didn't _I_ think of that?

"Woof." Blue shook her head no while taking hesitant steps away from Steve.

"What do you mean "Woof"? What other possible conclusion could one possibly come up with?" he said, exasperated.

"STEVE, BLUE WANTS TO READ YOUR LETTER WITH HER GLASSES AND OPEN THE LETTER WITH THE KNIFE SINCE SHE HAS NO OPPOSABLE THUMBS TO RIP THE MAIL OPEN," all the preschoolers said in unison while giving Steve a pitying look as if he were the dumbest person in the world.

Trumpets blared in the background and suddenly all the cast was surrounding the chair. There was Tickety, Magenta, Shovel and Pail, Slippery Soap, Mrs. Pepper and Mr. Salt, Paprika, and Mailbox too. All of them were singing the same song:

"Now it's time for so long,

But we'll sing just one more song,

Thanks for doing your part,

You sure are smart,

You know, with me and you,

And Steve's dog Blue,

We can do anything,

That we wanna do."

Steve was frozen in shock for a few minutes before he suddenly lunged for Blue's neck while screaming "You motherfu—"

**(BLEEP)**

The show came to an end there and the ending credits rolled up the screen.


End file.
